


Rain

by OzQueen



Series: babysitters100 [50]
Category: Baby-Sitters Club - Ann M. Martin
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bondage, College, Community: babysitters100, F/M, Kissing, Long Distance Relationship, Masturbation, One Shot, Porn, Porn Battle, lipstick & lipgloss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 06:37:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1169853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OzQueen/pseuds/OzQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Tell me what's making you happy,” he says against her ear, and this is what she loves so much about Alan; what she will always love about him: he's so ready to see the glass half full and to focus on the silver linings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rain

**Author's Note:**

> This is officially my 50th prompt for my [babysitters100](http://babysitters100.dreamwidth.org/58373.html) table! Woo, halfway, baby!
> 
> Another [Porn Battle XV The Ides of Porn](http://oxoniensis.dreamwidth.org/65746.html) fic, using the porn battle prompts: giggle, ribbon, quiet, lipstick, naked
> 
> It also fills the [long distance](http://sweetcarousel.dreamwidth.org/115340.html) square on my **cottoncandy_bingo** card.

Claudia stands in front of the mirror with a tube of bright red lipstick in her hand, pressing her lips together to smudge and blend the colour, the slick feel of it and the muted scent only heightening her anticipation.

She looks at the clock on her desk. Alan is late, but it doesn't matter because she's not quite ready yet, anyway. (She hopes he's just late because the rain has slowed traffic down, or that his last class of the day ran a little over, and not because he's lost and can't remember where her dorm is.)

She hasn't seen him since Christmas. They send emails most days – Claudia spends more time on them than she does any of her essays – but it's not the same as having him close. There's more than a five hour drive stretched between them, and there aren't as many opportunities to shorten their distances as they had first promised each other there would be.

Claudia steps back and checks her reflection in the mirror, trying to see what Alan will see. She's wearing a black and purple dress, fitted and panelled, lace and zips. It's freezing outside but she's got a red coat that falls to her knees she can wear until they can settle into a stuffy booth at the restaurant four blocks away.

She's rummaging for her boots when there's a knock at the door. She slams her closet shut and fumbles with the lock on her door for a moment before she pulls it open to find Alan, drenched and cold with a grin on his face.

She should care that he's wet – towel his hair, let him change into something warm and dry before they go out. She should care that he's wet and he's touching her even though she's dry and she's just spent a half hour on her make up and even longer brushing her hair out so it's light and shiny like silk, but she can't care because his hands are cold on her face and he's kissing her, kicking the door closed behind him and half-tripping over his bag as he drops it and backs her into the room.

She laughs into his mouth, her heart racing, blood pounding in her temples and her fingertips. She can feel rainwater on her skin as she drags her hands through Alan's hair, and she grins when he starts moving his mouth so he's not just against her lips; he's kissing her chin and her cheeks and her nose, and his hands are holding her waist so tight, pulling her against him. 

Her lipstick is smeared everywhere, and she takes a moment to drop her head and suck against the pulse in his throat, laughing again when she sees the rough smudge of it on his skin. 

“Missed you,” he breathes, backing her against the bed. 

“Missed you, too,” she says, and if she dwelt on it too long she would be able to feel an ache in her throat at the thought of how long it has been, but he's here now and he's still mouthing those breathless little kisses against her face.

She tugs his coat down his arms so it's on the floor in a heap and pulls him on top of her, her narrow bed creaking under their weight. Alan's hands search against her back as he seeks the zip to get her dress undone. He gives up and she sucks in a sharp breath as he pushes it up to her waist, stroking cold fingers over her warm skin.

She bought lingerie for tonight – proper, expensive underwear that has no place in the world other than to be purely impractical and just for show – and she feels little twinge as she thinks of her lost dollars when Alan drags her panties down without even noticing how tiny and sheer and almost ridiculous they are. They catch at her knees and Alan is already fumbling in the drawer of her nightstand for condoms, trying to undo his jeans with his other hand.

Claudia laughs into his chest and helps him, hands catching on fabric and his weight pressing against her in odd places as he shuffles and shoves and tries to get undressed enough so this will work. 

He glides two fingers into her first and she's already wet, anticipation and excitement having kept her on edge all day, heart racing. She clutches his hips and bends her knees, and her tongue is warm and wet against his when he slides inside her properly, hot and hard and fast.

He buries his face against her neck and she can feel his teeth and his tongue; his hands grip her hips hard, keeping her pinned as he thrusts into her. She would be embarrassed about how easily and quickly she comes, but he's right behind her, following her body along the bed as she whimpers and squirms under him, muscles curling and burning as her blood lights like fire in her veins.

He gasps against her shoulder for a moment, catching his breath, before they slowly separate themselves, sweat prickling under Claudia's arms, between her breasts and against her back. 

Alan's face is red and stained from her lipstick, and she imagines she doesn't look much different.

“Hi,” he says, grinning up at her as he settles against her pillow, his hair still rain-damp and curling.

She rolls on top of him again, hands clenched in his shirt, kissing him, tasting his skin and memorising the feel and shape of his mouth against hers. “Hi,” she whispers. 

He moves his hands up her sides, his palms resting high on her ribs, and he grins and lets out a satisfied little noise when he finds the zip against the side of her dress. He peels it open and she pulls her arms out of the sleeves and kicks the material all the way off to the floor. 

“I've missed you so much,” she whispers, leaning over him, her hair curtaining across them in a soft tangle.

His palms move slowly over her skin, fingers tracing the light ridges of her spine and the dips and angles of her shoulder blades, the thin straps of her bra. “I've missed you too,” he says softly. “This long distance thing sucks.”

She nods and settles on top of him, her cheek against his shoulder, arms tucked between them, knees either side of his hips. “It's harder than I thought,” she admits, guilty.

He strokes her hair down over her shoulder and doesn't say anything. His hands are warm now and he lets them linger against her skin as he touches her, tracing the curve of her ear, the soft flesh of her thigh. 

She tilts her head so she can kiss his cheek, and the sight of all that lipstick still makes her want to laugh. “We're supposed to be having dinner,” she reminds him. 

“I can eat when I’m alone in my own dorm,” he says grinning up at her ceiling as she tastes the edge of his jaw. 

She tugs at his shirt and he lifts himself so she can pull it over his head. 

“Why am I always naked way before you are?” she asks.

“You look better naked than I do,” Alan says, kicking his jeans the rest of the way down so they drop off the edge of the bed. “Do I look good in lipstick?”

“Really sexy,” Claudia says against his mouth.

He laughs and rolls her over, arms tight around her, fingers digging almost painfully into her as he pulls her close. “Tell me what's making you happy,” he says against her ear, and this is what she loves so much about Alan; what she will always love about him: he's so ready to see the glass half full and to focus on the silver linings.

“You're here,” she says first.

“Good answer,” he says.

“It's Friday night, which is my favourite time of the week.”

“Mm,” he agrees, kissing her shoulder.

“Spring break is another week closer.”

“Spring break,” Alan echoes softly. “Two whole weeks of no classes and no long distance, right?”

“Right,” she agrees, not caring at all that she's going to be back in Stoneybrook with no plans when Alan is going to be there as well.

“All of those things are making me happy, too,” Alan says. His fingers fumble along the back of her bra, and Claudia reaches between her breasts to unsnap the front clasp.

“Why are all of your clothes so confusing tonight?” he asks, pushing the material aside to cup his hands against her breasts.

“Keeping you on your toes,” she says with a smile.

The rain rolls in waves against the window, a soothing background noise against their breathing and shifting against one another. 

“What's that phrase?” Claudia asks after a while, fingers dragging slowly through Alan's hair, his teeth against her lower lip as she whispers to him. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder?”

“Sounds familiar.” His hand squeezes her breast, thumb stroking against her nipple in increasingly-fast little flicks and taps.

“D'you love me more with distance?” she asks, nerves jumping in time to his touch. 

He drops a kiss against her chin and trails his tongue against the pulse in her neck, down to the curve of her collar bone. “I love you,” he says, simple and straight – always to the point. “But I hate everything about the distance.”

“Me too.”

His hand cups between her legs and he starts rubbing slowly, fingers teasing in circles. “When I’m not here,” he says, a dangerous, excited edge in the tone of his voice, “do you think about this?” 

She parts her legs and shifts underneath him, breathing out as his fingers play with pressure and speed. “Yes,” she admits, and her voice sounds raw. 

She can feel him grinning against her ear, can hear it in his next question. “Do you touch yourself?”

“Do you fantasise about that?” she asks with a laugh. 

“It's part of my morning routine,” he says. “Sometimes part of my night routine, too. I think about it a _lot_.”

“That's beautiful,” Claudia says. “You're so romantic, Alan.” She bites her lip suddenly when he slides a finger into her and starts to stroke slowly. 

“You didn't answer me,” he says after a moment. He moves his hand and starts to run his fingers over her thigh and her belly, tickling and soft and not where she wants his touch at all. 

She squirms impatiently. “Yes,” she says. “I touch myself.” 

He grins down at her triumphantly and she can't help but think what a brat he is, sometimes.

“Show me,” he says. He catches her hand and guides it between her legs before he starts to kiss her again. “Show me,” he says, whispering the words into her mouth.

His touches are evasive now – just enough to brush her nerve endings to life again, fire flaring deep in her belly, but not enough to let it spread to anything greater. 

She gives a moan that's mostly impatience and a little reluctance before she starts to rub her fingers against herself. Alan twines his hand with hers but lets her control the movement, pressure, speed. 

When Claudia's breathing is ragged and loud and her heels are digging into the mattress, fingers slick and insistent now, Alan pulls away so he can watch her, his hand spreading wide over her stomach so he can feel her ripple and buck when she finally comes.

Claudia hums a satisfied noise against his arm and keeps her eyes closed. 

“That was hot,” Alan whispers against her brow.

She grins and props herself up on her elbows, wincing when her hair catches under her own weight. She sweeps it over her shoulder and looks at him. “Your turn,” she says.

“I jack off every day,” he says bluntly. “It's almost at the point I can't even get excited enough about it to get started now.”

“You just get more and more desirable,” Claudia says, rolling her eyes.

He laughs and pulls her back into his arms, rolling so she's on top of him. His hands slide down her arms and over her thighs; his fingers tickle over her ribs. She catches his hand and sucks his fingers into her mouth, tasting the musk salt of herself on his skin. 

He makes a soft noise of approval and lets his head drop back onto her pillow as he watches her. “You've still got lipstick, like, all over your face,” he says after a moment.

“You should take a look in the mirror,” Claudia says, nipping at his fingertips. She leans over to her nightstand and pulls a long, thick red ribbon from the drawer.

“Are you going to gift wrap my dick?” Alan asks with interest. “Because that's the best idea ever. Also, I know what I’m getting you for your next birthday.”

She laughs. “Shut up.” 

She lets the satin-soft ribbon trail over his skin, coils it in loose loops in her fingers before she starts to stroke his erection.

He jumps and breathes out a satisfactory groan, eyes open and watching her all the time. 

“Good?” she asks, grinning at him. She tightens her hand around him just so and lets the ribbon slip against his skin.

“Fuck,” he gasps, clutching the sheets in his fist.

She wants to kiss him again, but she knows one of Alan's favourite things is to watch, so she sits back on her heels and sweeps her hair away so he can see her chest. She can feel him pulsing in her hand and she slows her speed down.

“Faster,” he protests, breathless. 

She straddles him and leans forward, hands either side of his shoulders and the ribbon still wrapped around her fingers. “Start bossing me around and I'll stop,” she warns him.

He gives a chuckle of delight, hands cupping her breasts again. “Yes ma'am. Sorry, ma'am.”

She takes his hands and pins them above his head, and he lifts his head to suck her nipple into his mouth, biting gently. It pulls the thread of fire tight in Claudia's belly again.

She loops the ribbon around his wrists and the metal rail of her bed frame, tying a bow he could easily slide loose with his fingers if he wanted to.

“Don't pull too tight,” she warns him.

“Yeah, that's not gonna hold me,” he says, craning his head to look up at her handwork.

“Right, your strength is equal to Superman,” she says, raising her eyebrow at him. 

“If you're gonna make fun, I'll leave,” he warns her, but he's grinning and his eyes are shining up at her with such adoration it makes Claudia's heart thump painfully. 

She kisses him hard on the mouth, to really shut up him this time, and because she can. He can't take her face in his hands and shape her or move her at all; she's in control and she's deciding. She can feel him shift under her as soon as he realises this; he melts and gives a soft groan at the back of his throat. 

Claudia sits back and looks at him for a moment before she sweeps her hair around and traps it against her neck with her hand. She keeps her eyes raised to his as she flicks her tongue against his his chest, leaving a wet trail of kisses on his skin until she's almost at the foot of the bed and she can take him into her mouth. 

The bed creaks as Alan tries to lower his hands, arching towards her, and he closes his fingers tightly around the metal bed frame when the ribbon pulls tight.

It's hard to keep her eyes raised to his like this, hard to concentrate on what she's doing and also try to fulfil that base need of his to _see_ everything, but she does her best, and Alan doesn't seem to be harbouring any complaints. 

“Fuck,” he gasps again, grey eyes wide, squirming under her, fingers white-knuckled around the rail above him.

She sucks him in as far as she can and hums, hands planted against his thighs so he can't move so fast it'll surprise her and make her lose control of this. She drags her tongue over him and listens to his breath sob and tear over the constant sound of the rain outside.

“Claud,” he says, voice cracking, needy, “I'm gonna come.” 

She slides her tongue under him and takes him as deep as she can, and when he comes she's got her gaze raised to him again, her weight holding him down as he cries out, chest heaving.

She sits up beside him and watches him catch his breath, nerves jumping in his arms. The ribbon has pulled tight and his hands are starting to change colour. Claudia takes two long swallows from the glass of water on the nightstand before she reaches over to pull the knots loose.

“You pulled it too tight,” she says, mock annoyance, nipping at his earlobe.

“You'll have to get your assassin's knife,” he says tiredly.

“My assassin's knife?”

“Some of my fantasies about you are pretty elaborate.”

She laughs and buries her face against his neck once she's pulled the ribbon loose again. He curls his arms around her and sighs, letting the room settle into soft breathing and the sound of rain. 

“When do you have to go back?” Claudia asks, voicing the question quietly and reluctantly.

He stirs drowsily. “If I want to make class on Monday I have to leave here at like 4AM ,” he says.

She smiles against the bare skin of his shoulder, but there's still an ache in her heart. “So you're leaving on Sunday night, then?” she asks.

He draws his lips softly over her brow and laces his fingers through hers, their hands resting on his chest. “No,” he says. “4AM Monday morning. Set your alarm, Kishi.” 

She gives a laugh into his neck and lifts herself above him, stroking light touches against his nose and through his hair, ghosting her fingertips against his closed eyelashes. “You're the only one I'd ever wake that early for,” she murmurs. 

He grins, but he's sleepy, and he doesn't open his eyes. “Love you, too,” he says.


End file.
